


Trussed

by OnABadBet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Established Relationship, Light Bondage, M/M, Roleplay, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-12
Updated: 2013-04-12
Packaged: 2017-12-08 06:25:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/758129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnABadBet/pseuds/OnABadBet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam gets off on the idea of Benny feeding from him. Benny can't give him that, but he'll do what he can.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trussed

They both know there are some lines Benny isn't ever going to cross.

Sam's happy for that, he is, but that doesn't do much to change the way his body responds when he thinks of the vampire sliding those teeth over his skin, sharp, agitating pinpricks that Sam wants to lean into and beg for until Benny gives in and _takes_.

His pulse stutters and picks up at the thought. Behind him, Benny laughs.

"Wond'r what's got you so worked up, now, sugar," Benny says. He fights the urge to lean closer, soak up that low drawl.

Instead, he tugs at the loops around his ankles, his wrists. Leans hard into the cut of the thick rope over his neck and chest. If he's hard, well. Blame that on the adrenaline, on how his blood is rushing hard enough he can feel it throbbing in his toes.

Benny's hand falls on his shoulder, rough and big, thumb pressing hard into his nape. "Big, bad hunter like yourself -- ain't no way you're enjoyin' this," he says. His eyes are a weight, pressing Sam back down into the chair with every long glance down the line of Sam's body. "Then again," and Benny reaches over his shoulder,  _down_ , and his hand stops just short of Sam's crotch, resting low and warm on his belly. He shifts, chest brushing Sam's back, and strokes a finger over the bulge, thoughtful and entirely too light.

Somehow, Sam bites down the whine crawling up his throat, resists the urge to thrust up -- what little he can with the leverage he's been given -- into that single, frustrating line of pressure. "Screw you," he manages through clenched teeth.

"N'aw," Benny says, "I think you'd like that a little too much, sweetheart."

Sam can't hold back the noise he makes at that, face immediately flaring hot at how submissive he sounds. He's rewarded with Benny's hand -- his huge fucking hand, _God_ , almost big enough to cover all of Sam -- kneading him firmly through his pants, working him in these long, steady pulls that have his fingers clenching arrhythmically on the arms of the chair. Benny turns his face, noses over Sam's cheek. There's a rush of air -- _inhaling_ , Sam thinks, Benny's breathing in the smell of him, _fuck_ \-- and then a tongue running hot over the color high on his cheekbone, followed by a soft scrape of blunt, human teeth.

"Smell awful good for me, darlin'. Worked up so pretty." A pause. "Bet you'd taste real good, too," Benny breathes, voice a little rougher than usual. Sam's heart clenches at that -- he's not sure anymore if it's from what this is doing to his pulse or the residual ache of knowing how hard this has to get for Benny sometimes.

Sam swallows hard against the guilt, for asking this of him, for wanting it in the first place. Doesn't so much feel like playing anymore. He tries to reach for Benny; he's stopped by the rope around his wrists, huffs out a noise of frustration. "You don't have to --"

"Want this, ain't that right?" Benny cuts him off, stills his hand on Sam's dick and grips hard. "Sam Winchest'r, wantin' t'get all trussed up for a vampire. Want me t'drink you, darlin'?"

"Fuck," says Sam, choked all over again.

"That so?" Benny chuckles again. He tilts his head, mouth skimming over his cheek again, his jaw, his chin -- Sam will have beard burn after this, just like always, but he'll be fucked if it isn't worth it every time.

Benny stops with his mouth pressed open and wet under Sam's jaw, just shy of his pulse, thick fingers of one hand cradling the side of his head while the other gets back to work on his dick. "Want me t'drain you, Sam? Use you?"

"Shit," Sam hisses. He shouldn't want it, fuck, but he'd nod if not for the press of teeth -- fangs, this time, sharp points scraping gently over the skin of his throat.

Benny lets go of his cock -- ignoring the whine Sam can't quite smother -- and flicks open the button of his jeans, drags the zipper down in a slow, measured slide, shoves his underwear down to tuck snugly under his balls. Then his hand is right back where Sam wants it, rough grip working him harder, now, catching the wet at the head and smearing it over him, making the glide easier, fucking  _fuck._ "God, Benny," Sam says, voice pathetically high, whining lilt to it that Sam can't even begin to dignify.

"Like that, sweetheart?" Benny murmurs. Sam manages a single nod before Benny's teeth are pressed to his pulse, razor-wire feel to them that Sam has to fight not to lean into. Benny gives him a little more pressure, almost breaking the skin, Jesus _fucking_ Christ, so close, _close_ \-- "C'mon, darlin', jus' like that," and Sam's coming in shuddering pulses up his belly, all over Benny's gorgeous, thick fingers, muscles in his stomach seizing up and toes curling in the carpet. Benny works him through it in slow strokes, laying close-mouthed kisses over his throat, his jaw, until Sam's hips are jerking away from the pull of his hand. They're possibly the only part of his body that Sam is convinced still work the way they're supposed to.

"Fucking hell," Sam manages, still gasping a little.

"Good?" The grin in Benny's voice is audible. Sam kind of wants to kiss him.

"Untie me?" he counters.

He gets a warm chuckle as his answer, deft fingers wiping Sam's come on his pants before he can think to protest, and then Benny's hands are at the knots around his wrist.

"Thanks," he murmurs. One hand free, he curls his fingers around the collar of Benny's shirt, pulls his vampire down to eye level. He searches Benny's face for a minute, assessing, and smiles. "Thanks," he says again, a little more forcefully, and pulls him down those last couple of inches for a kiss. _  
_

Benny smirks against his lips, draws back just to lean forward again and rub his face against Sam's. "Anytime, darlin'," he drawls. "Now, I do believe it's my turn."


End file.
